


A Promise Broken is a Binding Offered

by TheMadKatter13



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Creature Aziraphale (Good Omens), Creature Crowley (Good Omens), Dragon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dragon Crowley (Good Omens), Dragons, Established Relationship, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), POV Newton Pulsifer, Shapeshifting, Top Crowley (Good Omens), pseudo-bestiality, referenced past torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 13:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20601668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadKatter13/pseuds/TheMadKatter13
Summary: When Crowley returns home to find his mate alone with humans and, understandably, does not react well, Aziraphale gladly offers a more permanent solution for his mate's peace of mind.





	A Promise Broken is a Binding Offered

**Author's Note:**

> I think that's the least happy I've been with a summary in a while but oh well. This fic comes to you today because I read my friend's [dragon AU cowrite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535914/) and got a completely unrelated dragon AU idea while waiting for more chapters (I'm pretty excited for that fic so you guys should check it out).
> 
> Crowley's scales are inspired by one of my favourite genus of snakes, the [Atheris viper](https://www.instagram.com/p/BzJXyIkB_SO/), and in a way, the [Game of Thrones dragons](https://gameofthrones.fandom.com/wiki/Drogon?file=Dragons_S8_Ep_1.jpg) whose scales took on the exact appearance and sound I've been wanting to see in a dragon for ages.
> 
> Bone apple tea~ :3

Newt had no idea why _he_ was hunting the prince down. He wasn't even a proper knight! In fact, he wasn't even really a knight at all! But the Dragonfinder Army had dwindled in the last few decades, within the last few centuries even, as reports of dragon sightings came in less and less. By his time, there hadn't been a sighting in a decade, and really, what harm would it do? Especially since he kept mucking up all his other castle duties.

The cave Captain Shadwell had directed him too was large and looming and frighteningly dark, as if the sun couldn't breach the aura of evil that lay within. Even more terrifying was the clear claw prints in front of the cave, sunk into the dirt, far too large to belong to anything but a dragon.

"Well, let's get on with it then."

"EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Newt screeched, turning so swiftly that he tripped over his armour and fell - _clankclankclankclankclank_ \- into the dirt.

"Well, there goes our element of surprise," said the shadowy figure behind him, who slowly resolved into a hazy depiction of the Seer, backlit by the sunlight.

"_Lady Anathema?!_"

"You're not very good at sneaking, are you, Sir Newt?" she asked primly, her arms crossed as she looked down at him with obvious irritation.

"What- what are you doing here??" he exclaimed, trying, and rather failing, to get to his feet.

"Getting the prince back, same as you," she replied, staring down her nose at him. Which she usually managed to do even when he was standing. And taller than her. "Now hurry up," she said before darting into the gloom of the cave.

"_My Lady!_" Newt hissed after her with all the fear of someone who knew they were about to get eaten. His attempts at a quiet call were, however, completely ruined by the racket he made when he finally managed to clamber, and clang, to his feet. He did his best to tiptoe after her and did not succeed one whit.

The cave wasn't so dark inside, the shadows becoming the twist and turn of cave walls, and Newt kept one hand on his sword hilt and the other on a wall as he made his way inside. Unfortunately, 'not so dark' inside of a cave was still dark, and he ran directly into something.

"Ow!"

Or someone.

"I'm sorry, My Lady," Newt said hurriedly, gauntleted hands searching for injury rather ineffectively. Lady Anathema easily dodged and slapped away his attempts, and he couldn't see her face in the gloom but he was fairly certain it was frowning.

"Stop that," she said sternly. "And stop calling me Lady."

"But you are a lady," Newt reminded her. Which was technically true, even though Seers were their own class above, beyond, and quite separated from classic nobility. Even the Kings and Queens were hesitant to affront the Seers.

"Not when we're hunting dragons, I'm not," she replied. "Not until we can find out which myths about dragons are real or not. I don't want to find out that they actually consider Seers a delicacy."

"We do consider Seers a delicacy."

"See?" she gestured pointedly. "Exactly." She paused and her face went slack, her eyes straying over Newt's shoulder, and with a sinking heart, he turned.

The dragon was massive, easily the height of two men at the shoulder, and another at the head raised and arched like a swan, though the beast's build itself was long and narrow, like a snake. Its scales were pointed and stuck out from its body like thorns, though when the beast hissed, its scales bristled and rattled like a crisp autumn wind through dead leaves. And for a long, terrifying moment, Newt thought the red spanning the beast's underside from throat to tail tip was dried blood, dark and dried and plenty enough to discolour the ink-black scales. It wasn't until the creature breathed out a gust of flame that lingered near the ceiling like a formless chandelier that he realized that it wasn't blood, simply a secondary colour, not unlike the snake cousins the beast's form had just reminded Newt of.

"We demand the safe return of the Prince!" a voice called out, strong and demanding, and Newt was ashamed that it was not his own. No, his own was frozen in his throat, right alongside his heart. Still, he was glad Lady Anathema remained at his side and just behind him, keeping his armoured self between her and the dragon.

For a long moment, they were fixated with an unholy yellow gaze as flame danced around the beast's great fanged maw. Newt wondered if he was going to be cooked inside his armour before he was eaten, and how effective it would be to push Lady Anathema out of the way, or if the dragon was just going to eat them both at once. Then, the dragon sighed.

It… sighed?

"Angel!" it called, sharp and echoing back through the caves. "Warlock! Adam! Whoever's here, come out! Now!"

Newt could only watch in shock as a short, plump, _human_ man with unusually white-blond hair emerged from around a corner with two young boys in tow.

"Prince Adam!" Newt exclaimed in relief at the same time Lady Anathema exclaimed "_Prince Warlock?_" in surprise.

For a long moment, everyone stared at one another, then the blond man turned to look down at the two young princes.

"Am I to assume that neither of you received permission to visit then?" he asked with paternal disappointment.

Prince Warlock, who Newt hadn't even realized had gone missing, crossed his arms and huffed, looking stubbornly away, but Prince Adam stared the man down unashamedly. "We never get permission to do anything fun," he complained.

"Well, I would much prefer you didn't lie about it," the man replied, as if it was perfectly reasonable to harbour missing princes, much less in a dragon's cave. "We don't like being unprepared. What if this young man had been at all competent and had murdered us?"

"Oh," Prince Adam said.

Newt nodded along and then belated tried to defend himself with an affronted "Hey!", but no one was paying him any attention. Well, except maybe Lady Anathema who was keeping to his side and who had threaded her arm through his. If only he wasn't wearing armour!

"Oh is right," the man said sternly. "Now, you know we don't mind you visiting, but you must tell us when you do so in secret. Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes, Aziraphale," Prince Adam capitulated, head dropping. Prince Warlock didn't reply, his countenance still quite surly, even in the dim light.

"Warlock?" Aziraphale prompted, and finally the prince threw up his arms with an explosive sigh.

"Fine!" he relented churlishly. "Let's go, Adam," he groused, grabbing Prince Adam's hand and dragging him out towards the front of the cave.

"We'll see you soon!" Aziraphale called out cheerfully after them. Then he looked at Lady Anathema and Newt for the first time, and Newt blinked, wondering if the strange shape to the man's blue eyes was a trick of the light or if there was some sort of deeper, darker magic at work. He really didn't want to find out.

"The both of you are welcome to return with the boys as well, as long as you promise not to murder us," he said, voice just as warm and welcoming if not a bit more sternly, and it did nothing to quell Newt's confusion. "For now though, I believe it would be best to escort the princes home."

"Yes, thank you, Aziraphale," Anathema said, her courtly manners and rather sterner constitution giving her words where Newt had none. "We'll see you again soon." The certainty with which she'd said it sent shivers down Newt's spine, and he knew with absolute and dreaded certainty that she had Seen it. "Sir Newt?"

"Um, yes, I mean, thank you- that is, uh-" He stumbled over his own words for a touch too long before he gave up and bowed. He was pretty sure he'd heard somewhere that dragons respected respect, and there was no harm in trying to sweeten them away from the potential of eating either the lady or himself. Even though Lady Anathema had Seen their return, the terror of being roasted or swallowed alive was difficult to dispel. As such, he ended up inching his way out of the cave with his back to the wall, and he didn't turn forward again until they'd reached sunlight.

"Well, that's two things we can mark down as true for dragons," Anathema said matter-of-factly as she strode passed Newt to where the two princes were playing with sticks as if they were swords (and doing a lot better footwork than Newt was capable of).

"What's that?" Newt asked, feeling the shakes setting into his voice and into his bones.

"I'll have to make sure my family is aware that any potential encounter with a dragon may end in being eaten if their abilities are revealed," she reminded him, setting off towards home with all the confidence of a master tracker. Both princes seamlessly fell in step with her without question and without hesitation, adopting the trees as obstacles and defenses in their little game.

"Ah. Yes," Newt nodded, wishing he could sit down for a day or two. "And the other?"

"Mated pairs do live together."

Newt stopped dead.

"Mated _what?_"

* * *

"Aziraphale."

Aziraphale did his best not to flinch, but Crowley only called him by his name when he was well and truly upset. As if the flood of terrified, _furious_ pheromones pervading the air wasn't indication enough.

"Yes, dear?" he replied with all the feigned ignorance of someone who could not, in fact, detect any of that. Although, he did bustle his way a little too quickly towards their sitting room to clean up after the boys and their unexpected visit. Apparently not in the mood to take human form, the sibilant echo of his mate's scales shifting followed Aziraphale into the mountainside instead of the pad of bare feet.

He was allowed to tidy up in relative peace, but he could feel Crowley lingering in the doorway the entire time, lingering and breathing flames into the gloom, warming his back. When he finished, he paused facing the table, feeling a little too trepidatious to turn round because- well, really, it was because he _did_ understand why his mate was upset.

He'd made a promise, and he'd accidentally broken that promise.

Aziraphale set his hands on the table top, the surface stone and smooth from the centuries of use. Well, it had actually been a boulder once upon a time, but-

Claws raked down his back, shredding his clothes, and he inhaled sharply, arching away from his mate's touch. "That was my favourite outfit," Aziraphale complained, although it came out a little too breathlessly to be convincing, even though it really was his favourite outfit.

The heat behind him moved closer and Crowley's dragon-head peaked over Aziraphale's shoulder, one large, yellow eye fixing on Aziraphale's face. Aziraphale who couldn't help but notice that his mate's head was much smaller than it had been a moment ago, closer in size to his own human head. Which meant Crowley had shrunk. Which meant that Aziraphale knew exactly what was coming, what form his… 'punishment' would take, and it sent a thrill down his spine. The beat of his heart quickened, and a heat that had nothing to do with his Fire pooled in his belly.

"What did you promise?" Crowley growled, head pulling back as his body pressed forward. The smoother scales of his underbelly were hot and slick against the bared skin of Aziraphale's back as he was forced into a bend over the stone table. "What did you promise _me_?"

Crowley's bulk pulled back, but Aziraphale remained obediently in place, the stone wonderfully cool against the heat of his cheek. The blunt head of his mate's cock, as hot as their Flame, pressed against where he was still wet from that morning's mating, before Crowley left to hunt, before the boys-

"_Ohhh_," Aziraphale moaned as he was penetrated by the thick head. To his aching disappointment, the rest of his mate's length failed to follow, and he scratched desperately at the table. His claws were still human-shaped, but their strength was still draconian, and his not-claws gouged lines in the ancient stone. "Oh d-d-dear," Aziraphale stuttered. "I've had this table for- for uh- um... ei-eight centuries."

Two proper dragon claws of gorgeous black talons thudded down onto the table top on either side of Aziraphale, and the great stone cracked. "_What did you promise me?_ Crowley thundered, his voice a frightful storm.

It would have been enough to make any human quake, but all Aziraphale could hear in it, smell in it, was Crowley's fear. He settled a gentle hand over the claw in front of him, stroking the wicked black curve of a talon comfortingly. "I promised that I would always call for you if a human came to our caves," he said quietly, his heart aching for his mate's pain.

Crowley's weight increased as he pushed fully inside Aziraphale and then fell still, fully sheathed. Under him, Aziraphale rather forgot how to breathe. He always did, when they mated like this, his human body so much smaller, so much more susceptible to his mate's cock.

"Then why didn't you?" The growl was simultaneously plaintive and accusatory, and Aziraphale was glad he was face down so he didn't have to look his mate in the eye.

"I'm sorry, my dear. I simply… forgot." He grimaced. It sounded even worse when he said it out loud, and he knew the moment his words registered because Crowley went tense.

"You… forgot."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and hesitantly nodded.

"You. _Forgot_."

"It was just the boys!" Aziraphale exclaimed defensively. The very same boys that Crowley himself had helped looked over for the last decade. They were even more harmless than hatchlings.

"They were 'just boys' last time too," Crowley snarled, and that time, Aziraphale did wince. Crowley was still sitting still inside him, body tense behind and above his, so tense it seemed like he was going to snap.

"Dear, that was over a thousand years ago," Aziraphale reminded his mate, not unkindly. "I doubt their descendants are even still alive." He wasn't even sure they had had the chance to, well, make descendants, before his mate had gotten to them. "All the scars are long gone," he reassured Crowley, not for the first time, and not for the last. "Inside and out."

Crowley rumbled again, and this time, the sound was threaded through with a whimper. A thin tongue flicked over his shoulderblades, where he'd been scarred the worst, where the boys he'd trusted had tried to cut off his wings for hunting trophies. When Crowley had come back from his hunt, when he'd found Aziraphale weak and bleeding, he'd taken one look at his injured mate and raced off into the sun after the humans they'd considered friends.

Aziraphale had later found out that their kingdom had been razed to the ground.

It had taken a decade for the injuries to heal completely, for Aziraphale to regain the full use of and strength in his wings, a decade in which Crowley only left his side to hunt. It took another century after that to convince his mate that he was well and truly fine, that he would still be fine if Crowley looked outside the surrounding forest for their food. Still, even now, a millennia later, Crowley got… twitchy around humans, even hatchling-aged ones like Warlock and Adam. Who had only come by for tea, like they did every month or so. Although, this had been the first time they'd arrived while Crowley had been out.

Oh. Oh dear.

He suddenly understood it like he hadn't before, the fright his mate must have felt, scenting humans in his home, alone with his mate, just like back then. A dragon's memory was long, and Crowley in particular did not forget nor forgive.

"I'm so sorry, my dear," he murmured softly reaching out his hand. Crowley shifted around and inside of him, making him shudder as his mate's sleek head rested on his palm. He pressed gentle kisses to the ink-dark muzzle, soft and loving and reassuring. "I'm so very sorry. I didn't think, and I hadn't thought about you. I won't do it again."

The great big yellow eye closest to him closed, and Aziraphale pressed his forehead the curve of bone underneath.

"If anything happened to you, angel-" Crowley growled.

"Nothing will happen to me," Aziraphale rushed to affirm comfortingly, a part of himself, a part he hadn't even realized was tense, relaxing at the return of his mate's favoured term of endearment for him.

Crowley's eye opened again, and his voice hardened. "If anything happened to you, angel, I would burn the world."

* * *

Crowley's mate was tight and hot and _alive_ underneath him, and even the scant distance between them was too much. The sheer terror he'd experienced scenting not just the young princes, but two strangers, in their home, alone with his mate, had had him ready to set fire to the entire cave system. Burn out the human infection to ensure his mate's safety. It had only been the absent scent of his mate's blood, and the stark terror radiating off the knight, that had him holding his Flame back.

He shifted, pressing as close as he could to his mate's human back and Aziraphale sighed against his cheek, arching against Crowley's underbelly.

"Well my dear, I promise to do my best not to put you in that position, hm?"

Crowley closed his eyes again, pressing the tip of his snout to his mate's cheek. "Angel…"

"Come now, dear," Aziraphale murmured against his scales, a gentle hand stroking down his neck. "Bind my promise. "

Crowley paused and opened his eyes. "Are you sure, angel?"

Aziraphale smiled. "We should have the first time I made that promise. Bind me, my love."

"Yes, angel," Crowley said, because when his love asked, for anything, it was Crowley's will and his pleasure that he comply. And in this case, his relief.

Finally, he started moving, pulling out far enough to push back in, and Aziraphale let out a little moan, the sound so soft and sweet that Crowley couldn't resist tasting it. His tongue flicked between Aziraphale's parted lips, dancing over the sluggish palette of his human tongue. It was so tempting, to just remain fully sheathed in his love's body, but the urge to tie them together won out, and he forced his hips into an easy rhythm, a soft and steady beat closer to Aziraphale's preferred love-making than his own usual need to fuck and take and mark. Not that speed ever really mattered, just as long as they were mating.

In the haven of their caves, far away from prying human ears in the safety and privacy of their sitting room, Crowley Spoke quietly, the guttural syllables of dragontongue warmed by his Flame a low purr against Aziraphale's ear. The words themselves were as old as dragonkind, as old as time, passed down through their species's long, long memory, an inheritance no hatchling broke out of their egg without. And with such age came Power, tied to the earth herself, Power that could not be broken once it was woven. The humans had certainly tried, after they'd stolen dragontongue for their own use, but dragontongue was not meant for humans, and the mere knowledge of it had driven those who'd stolen it mad before dragonkind had burned out the infection. Crowley, however, was not human, and despite the fleshy skin he wore, neither was Aziraphale.

Below him, Aziraphale shuddered against the stone, shook against the vulnerable underside of Crowley's belly, and Whispered back to him. He matched Crowley's words of Binding with words of Promise, the two strands twining and doubling and doubling again, a spelled weave, hovering in the air between them, waiting only for the fulcrum point, to be applied to its anchor.

"Crowley…" Aziraphale breathed out, and Crowley's rhythm stuttered. His beloved mate let out the softest, sweetest sound in protest, and Crowley had never wanted to mark Aziraphale more than in that moment. But it was never the same when Aziraphale was in human form, Crowley's mark refusing to stick if it hadn't been made by piercing those beautiful, white-blue moonstone scales with his fangs.

He settling for purring softly in reassurance and for shifting his stance to renew his rhythm, letting his rising lust and pure need drive his quickening pace, now that the spell's groundwork had been laid. His increasing speed was met with a fluttering of soft, warm walls around his cock and the slow swell of his knot, and his tail twitched. His traitorously empty tail. With a soft growl at the realization that he'd been neglecting his love, Crowley pulled his tail into the room, curling the whip-thin end of it forward to wrap around the short, thick length of his mate's delicious cock, knot regretfully absent in his human form.

His touch made Aziraphale sob out wretchedly, and if Crowley had had lips, he would have grinned. He well knew how the smoothness of their scales felt around a cock, in either of their forms, and he knew exactly how to flex the tip of his tail to producing a spine-crippling massaging sensation. Aziraphale cried out again, softer this time, the sound closer to a moan, and clenched tight around Crowley's cock as his hips bucked forward into the coil of tail around his own cock.

"My angel," Crowley rumbled back, leaning back to take in the tableau his mate made against the stone.

Short, soft curls like sunlight against the grey rock, pale flesh tinged pink with the flush of blood. He looked just like 'angels' that made up the religion practiced by the humans in their territory, and Crowley knew for a fact that Aziraphale himself was in more than one of those paintings. Crowley had paid for such things after all, and they made up the majority of his hoard. He was particularly fond of the paintings done by those humans they'd shown their wings too, secure in the knowledge that no human would suspect their true identities when they could be mistaken for 'angels' instead. It was those paintings that were the closest to showing off the magnificence of his mate, white-blue wings spread beneath the glow of the sun.

Still, even those paintings were nothing compared to the sight of Aziraphale in the throws of passion, when he was being ravaged by Crowley's love. And that was a tableau no artist would ever set eyes on - Crowley would eat them out of their head first.

"Love," Aziraphale panted. "My love." It was a plea, as soft and pretty as Aziraphale was, and Crowley wanted to give him the stars. He would, in time, but for now, he settling for the satisfaction of giving his mate his knot.

Aziraphale shouted out as he came, human fingers gouging the stone, walls clenching insistently around Crowley's knot, body trembling between Crowley's belly and the rock, release spilling over the scales of Crowley's tail. His skin shimmered, moonstone scales rippling across peach flesh as his mate lost control of his human form. It was that, the sight of his mate's typically impeccable control wavering, that finally set Crowley off.

He nearly forgot to anchor the spell as his own orgasm washed over him, and he was glad he hadn't when it sunk into their very essences, an eternal Vow that burned like their Flame. It sent Fire down his spine and into his belly anew, spreading like wildfire from the tip of his snout to the tip of his tail, from claw to claw to claw claw, making him come again and again.

When the Fire finally died down to a faint simmer in Crowley's bones, he realized he'd collapsed. Just a bit, his body boneless atop the moonstone-scaled dragon body of his mate, Aziraphale's draconian head curled against his on the tabletop. His knot was still swollen, tying him to Aziraphale, and when he shifted, he didn't just feel the physical pleasure of it, but the tug of the Vow deep in his breast. Aziraphale stirred, blinking dazedly, his head slow to rise in that adorable sleepy way of his like he was fresh from repose in their nest.

"Oh dear," he said with faux sadness, looking down at himself. "I didn't mean to lose shape, I'm sorry, my dear."

Crowley huffed out a laugh and carefully sat back on his haunches, pulling his claws free from the table which was looking rather destroyed. He couldn't help but let his eyes roam the length of his mate's serpentine back, pleased to take in the familiar sight of those white scales and they way they shimmered blue in the flickering Flame-light. "it's never a burden to look at you, angel."

The feathers in Aziraphale's wings were looking a little displaced from forming while Crowley was laying on them, and he carefully set to grooming them with his claws. Aziraphale sighed, relaxing anew on the table, and turned his long, graceful neck to watch with lidded eyes. He didn't speak until Crowley was almost done. "I can feel you. Inside me."

Crowley opened his mouth, ready with a snarky reply, but Aziraphale cut him off with a tone that made Crowley think of flushed peach skin.

"Not just our mating, or our mating bond, but my Vow. I can feel it in me, linking me to you." He paused and blinked slowly. "I like it. It's… comforting. To feel you so tied to me."

It was Crowley's turn to pause. He knew of Aziraphale's pack, the family that bore him, raised him, abandoned him. The same had happened to Crowley, but the experience had only hardened him to the world. His mate was too soft and sweet for such betrayals, and he knew the abandonment hurt Aziraphale to this day. He leaned forward and nuzzled his mate's cheek.

"Maybe when my knot goes down, you'll permit me to make a Vow of my own."

"Oh?" Aziraphale asked with amused interest.

"Oh yes," Crowley nodded. "A Vow of my eternal love."

For an alarming moment, his mate didn't draw a breath, and Crowley wondered if he'd finally revealed too much of himself, if the depth of his devotion was somehow too deep, too heartfelt. "Oh Crowley, I know you love me, you don't have to prove it."

Crowley stared at his mate. "Angel, I don't think you understand," he said, gaze and voice steadfast. "I never want you to think you don't mean more to me than the world. I want you to feel me inside of you until your death and beyond. I want you to feel my Vow with every beat of your heart. I want to feel your heart beating in my chest until my death and beyond. I am yours, always and forever, and I would Bind myself to you for all eternity, if would you allow me."

"Crowley…" Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley knew that, if dragons could cry, Aziraphale would be weeping. "My dear… How- how long-?" He could barely seem to get the words out, and Crowley nuzzled him, silencing him.

"I would have bound myself to you the day we met, if I could have," Crowley finally confessed. It was the only secret he had left, after all this time. But after how long it had taken for Aziraphale to allow himself to love Crowley in return, Crowley's greatest fear, his only fear, had been scaring Aziraphale away.

"My dear… That was 100 centuries ago," Aziraphale said slowly, as if he were coming to terms with Crowley's proclamation.

Crowley could only nod. What else could he say? He'd loved Aziraphale almost since the moment they'd met, and it had taken 60 centuries for Aziraphale to return his affections. But they'd been happily mated for 40 now, and how could Crowley regret how long it had taken when he'd still had Aziraphale as a friend while he waited and hoped.

"Yes, yes, it was," he agreed.

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment longer. "You really wish to Bind yourself to me?"

"Only if you share my wish." _I want it more than anything,_ Crowley didn't say. He wanted it, but only if Aziraphale did. If Aziraphale didn't want it, then he would wait until he did - after all, Crowley had already waited 10,000 years, what was another 10,000 more? And if Aziraphale never wanted it, then Crowley would content himself with their mating, with Aziraphale's companionship. Just to spend time with him was more than he could have ever hoped for.

"I share it."

"Of course, you-" Crowley blinked. "What?"

Moonstone scales flickered over with peach flesh, and Crowley followed his mate to human form. As usual, his knot did not survive the transformation, and he finally slipped out of Aziraphale, who turned to face him. As he always did, Aziraphale's eyes and fingers first went to the flame-red hair Crowley's human form was graced with, pulling the long strands over Crowley's shoulders.

"I love this form's fur," Aziraphale said, and Crowley could see it for the slight diversion it was.

"Hair," he corrected, smiling as he wrapped his arms around his mate's soft middle. He really did love Aziraphale's body in every form.

"Right, yes, of course." Aziraphale went silent again, curling Crowley's hair around his fingers as surely as Crowley himself was wrapped around them. "I would be honoured to be Bound to you." He didn't look Crowley in the eye when he said it, but he said it without an ounce of hesitation or nervousness, and there was no doubt in Crowley's heart that he meant it.

A happiness too great for any words in dragontongue or any tongue humans possessed swelled in Crowley's chest, but speech wasn't the only thing a tongue was good for. In fact, there weren't many things humans had invented that Crowley cared for, but kissing? Oh, Crowley could kiss for ages.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the late 80s/early 90s YA fantasy quartet 'The Enchanted Forest Chronicles' by Patricia C Wrede yet, I highly recommend it. That's not actually related to the fic, I just couldn't stop thinking about it while writing this because it also features dragons and it's one of my favourite book series of all time and also I just reread it recently.
> 
> I wanted to post this on my birthday but this went on for longer than I wanted so of course it's late. Oh well. :/
> 
> Like the thing? Kudo and Comment, and Reblog the [thing](https://themadkatter13fanfiction.tumblr.com/tagged/A-Promise-Broken-is-a-Binding-Offered)! :3


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